


I Dreamed A Dream (That Came True)

by Atulreiter



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Cybertronian drama, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Family Drama, I'll think of some more tags later, It was a good year, M/M, More characters as they're introduced, Multi, Other, Prophetic Dreams, Road Trips, Romance, lots of 2007 references, typical Transformers' violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atulreiter/pseuds/Atulreiter
Summary: You should’ve known. It was so obvious that you honestly felt like an idiot for being so shocked when it finally came down to it. It always happened this way. You had your own personal warning, too, and you’d still been unprepared.To your credit, you did not often remember the dreams you had. The ones you did remember were vague and could not be pieced together without outside knowledge.And let’s face it; who honestly thought that an alien race of super-advanced fighting robots could really be in existence?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly? This story--like a shit ton of others--has been sitting on my computer for forever. It's one of those fanfics I wrote purely for the fun of it. I mean, I have fun with all of my stories but this one was particularly entertaining. It just makes me smile whenever I go to it because it's so unorthodox for me and I love it. Hopefully you'll see what I'm talking about when I really get into it.
> 
> Anyway, main points are as follows:  
> You are male in the story!  
> You are also not white! And while I haven't exactly specified which minority you are, you have darker skin and longer hair.  
> And yeah. I think those are the only big things you need to know for now. 
> 
> As usual it may take a while to update. Unlike most of my stories, this one is actually mostly finished. Planning that is. I still need to transfer it from an outline to a story so...patient waiting! And happy reading!

            As strange as it was, you did not like the weekends. For other people, the weekend meant freedom; relaxation; autonomy. For you, it meant the exact opposite. Your week _days_ were your weekends but your weekends were torment.

            During the week, you had the house to yourself. Sure, you had to take care of your younger brother but that wasn’t nearly as bad as you had thought it would be when you’d first heard the decree a few years ago. Your father ran a tight ship. He was currently in Arizona, working for a secret government organization as their technician. He was brilliant at computers and all things electronic but when it came to real life, he was a little less than proficient. Your mother and father had split when you were around three or four years old and she’d moved to the East Coast the following year. Your sister, who was older than you by eight years, had left the cage long ago and was now a forthcoming photographer.

            You wished you could be so lucky as you resisted the urge to throw down your guitar, the phone screeching in the sudden silence. You heaved a heavy sigh and steeled yourself before you snatched up the phone. He could detect negative emotions like a mosquito could blood, “Hello, Father.” You said as pleasantly as you would allow yourself.

 

            “Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?” As usual, he sounded distracted and you could faintly hear the soft pointed clicks of a keyboard.

 

            “Fine. What about you?”

 

            “Ah, you know how it is.” He laughed. You didn't. You joined in just to humor him. His laugh really was a nice sound and you didn’t have to pretend all that much.

 

            “Busy, then. I can hear you typing.” This was the wrong thing to say. Not that there was ever a _right_ thing to say to this man. His tone dropped and you could practically see his left eyebrow twitch down to form a crease between his eyes.

 

            “Yeah…I’m just trying to…figure out the…” He trailed off as he lost himself in... whatever he was trying to do. You sighed and your irritation flared back to life in your chest. You gave him five minutes before your patience started to deplete.

 

            “Was there somethin’ you needed?”

 

            “‘Something’ with a 'g' on the end, I’ve told you that,” he corrected automatically, voice taking on a hard edge. It cleared a little as he processed your question, though. “I was just calling to check up on you guys, really…Why, am I _bothering_ you or something?!”

 

            He sounded playful but you knew better. You chuckled just to keep the good mood, “Yeah, actually. I’m in the middle of practicing for Sunday.”

 

            “You should already know the songs. You’ve had them for two weeks now. I’ve told you about putting things off till the last minute. It’s why you’re not in college right now.”

 

            You scowled. This was an ongoing argument and he never failed to make you feel like shit for deciding to wait before setting off, “I didn’t go to college because I wasn’t ready. Not everyone has to-”

 

            “And that’s why everyone’s not making good money. You don’t have a choice. Your sister didn’t go because your mother-”

 

            “Dad, I _really_ don’t feel like or have the time to argue about this right now and I’m sure you don’t either.”

 

            “It’s not an argument because you _don’t have a choice_ ,” He raised his voice and you rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath. You knew he heard you but he had accepted this as a win and would move on for now. “But you’re right; I’ve gotta finish this. Where’s your brother?”

 

            “He’s at school,” you bit out.

 

            “It’s about time you picked him up, isn’t it? What time is it?”

 

            You glanced at the clock and blinked. It was later than you’d thought it was, “He’s got an hour before he gets out but I’ve got to run to a few places before then so I’ll talk to you later.” You stood up from the expensive couch that your father would most likely skin you alive for even breathing on and moved towards the kitchen. You plucked one of the many car keys from the bowl sitting on a kitchen counter.

 

            “Where do you have to go?”

 

            “Nowhere important. Just to the store for milk and some other crap for dinner,” you said absently as you ran your fingers through your hair. Where did you put your shoes? You knew there was a reason you followed your father’s stupid rule about leaving shoes by the entrance. You didn’t care a terrible amount about the carpet but you’d love to be able to just walk out the door when you wanted to.

 

            “You had better be eating correctly.”

 

            “Uh huh,” you said absently, as you wandered back into the living room and began checking under the furniture.

 

            “I mean it, [Name]. I don’t want to see Chinese food or McDonald’s in all the trash bags.” You snorted.

 

            “You won’t,” You assured him as you found a pair at the foot of the stairs and bent down to pull them over your heels. As if you’d be stupid enough to leave the trash where he could find it! You hated take-out, anyway. Pizza was the shit.

 

            “You wait till I get back over there. The house better be right, too.”

 

            You sighed in exasperation, “Dad, it’s been five years. Seriously?” There was a dubious atmosphere trickling over the line but you didn’t care to dispel it. “When are we picking you up? Did you get the ticket yet?”

 

            “Yeah. Be at the airport at five.”

 

            “In the morning?!”

 

            There was an impatient huff from him, “What the hell do I look like getting up at one in the morning to catch a damn plane?”

 

            “A member of the workforce,” you replied even as you pressed the button that would open up the five-car garage. “I gotta go. Call you later.”

 

            “Alright. Love you. Tell your brother to call me when he gets in.”

 

            “Yes, sir,” you said absently as you climbed into a blue 2007 Pontiac G6 convertible. You preferred your father’s white Nissan Armada but he was stingy. He laughed but you quickly hung up the phone before he could find something else to talk about. It would only lead to another argument and you were already short on patience.

           

            You sighed when you finally pulled out of your neighborhood and slumped back against the seat. You met your (color) eyes in the mirror briefly and frowned at the weariness you saw there. Your dark skin was pale. It lacked that healthy golden glow that living in California should have given you. Maybe you were getting sick. In all honesty, you didn’t feel all that well; you hadn’t for the past few days.

            Usually, you had a fairly decent time talking to your father. You were able to ignore his spiteful comments and even turn some of them into jokes. You were usually very good at music; it took you less than a week to learn a song and innovate it with your own personal flair. Two weeks and you could play a song forwards and backwards if you went slowly. Yet here you were struggling with three songs that essentially repeated themselves over and over again.

            You were impatient. Your body was stretched taut, waiting for something that you were not privy to. Every fiber of your being was pulled towards this thing and it frustrated you because you didn’t even know what it was!

            You knew it had something to do with your dreams. _Everything_ _always_ had something to do with your dreams.

            You weren’t a paranormal aficionado but you could swear on your life that you were gifted (or cursed, as that was how you felt about it lately). You saw things in your dreams. Usually they were insignificant things--a person you would one day see walking past you on the street or a certain phrase someone would say to you that held no real meaning--but sometimes they were vivid. Sometimes in your dreams you saw tragedies that, by some miracle, you had barely avoided. Sometimes, you saw places that you’d never seen before only to end up there a few months later. Sometimes, you see people that you would eventually come across. In fact, you could remember a specific time in a dream that you were actually in another person’s body meeting yourself. But these ones were different from any other you’d ever experienced.

            These dreams were dark. Nothing was clear, nothing was defined, and nothing went in order. The only thing you could really gather was that there were a group of giants split into two teams, racing for cubes. When they first started you mistook them for the dreams you had as a child with how absurd they were. That was until they continued to repeat. Recently, they’d turned violent and the humdrum pushing and shoving for a cube turned into a bloody massacre that you were forced to observe. You’d never had dreams of this caliber before and it honestly terrified you because you did not have meaningless, _vivid_ , **_reoccurring_** dreams. And they _were_ vivid even if they were not clear.

            You sighed as you pulled up to your brother’s school. Once upon a time you'd attended here, too. Traffic had boosted up so you’d have to go grocery shopping after if you wanted to be on time in picking him up. You frowned as you turned off the car.

            You really didn’t have time for this. You were scaring yourself. You had family problems to worry about coupled with your own and your mind didn’t need to be cluttered with ridiculousness that would (most likely) never come to pass. You ignored the harsh beat of your heart that said otherwise as you pulled down the top of the convertible. You might as well get as much sun as you could before your father came back. If you didn’t, then he would most certainly banish you to the desert until your skin had gotten enough Vitamin D…

 

            You were pulled away from your pointless musing by the distant sound of the school bell. You sat up quickly as you searched the rapidly increasing mass of teenagers nervously for your brother. He’d been having a lot of issues lately and teenagers were vultures for vulnerable peers.

            About four days ago, your baby brother had tearfully confessed his sexuality to you. You weren’t terribly surprised as a small part of you always wondered. You’d never expected to have it confirmed but you’d accepted it with the grace you’d learned to apply to all things. Really, it was the only way to keep your sanity but no one needed to know that.

            He’d been exceedingly grateful.

            Naturally, it was something he wanted to hide from your father who wouldn’t be any more accepting of it than the next homophobe. You’d agreed to keep his secret if only to let him have some peace. He was anxious enough without worrying about possible estrangement.

            You visibly sagged with relief when you saw his short but mildly muscled form force its way through the congested double doors some five minutes later. He looked perfectly fine if not a little annoyed at being jostled by a larger boy who was literally shoving his way through the throng to the exit. You couldn’t hold back your amused smile as you watched the boy, white with the typical Californian tan, glance over his shoulder in apology. He looked torn between wanting to apologize more thoroughly and continuing on with whatever he was in a rush to do. He swiftly decided on the latter though and sprinted towards a pristine, dark green, old-fashioned convertible, using his hands to prevent a complete collision.

            Your smile swiftly dropped however when you took a moment to actually see him. That familiar wave that always came when you finally lived through a scene from one of your dreams rushed through your body and sent your nerves tingling when he tossed his bag into the car and shoved a piece of paper into who you assumed was his father’s face.

            You knew this child. Not personally, but you’d seen him many times in your reveries (you made it a point to ignore how creepy stalker-ish that sounded). That boy was Sam--or at least that’s who he was to the second group of giants. The first group called him Ladiesman21-

 

            You nearly jumped out of your skin when your brother dumped his own bag into the passenger seat. He sent you a questioning look as he pushed it onto the floor to make room to sit, “What’s up with you?”

 

            “…Nothing....,”You murmured as you watched the green car pull away. You unconsciously relaxed and turned to your brother. You didn’t pretend to be discreet as you checked him over. “Are _you_ alright?”

 

           He sighed in mock exasperation, a grin fighting at his lips, “I almost regret telling you my secret.”

 

            You twisted the key and started up the car, “Yeah, me too. I never used to worry this much. Are you sure we haven’t switched bodies or something?”

 

            He snorted, “I wish.” You raised your eyebrows and he rolled his brown eyes. “Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know how you look. You have half the girls _and guys_ drooling every time you pull up.”

 

            “Yes, well, not interested,” you sniffed, using that haughty accent your father was still trying to make you adopt ever since you learned how to speak. Your sister had it down.

 

            “Yeah, that’s why they’re so bummed. They always think I’m joking when I tell them you’re asexual.”

 

            “For the moment…” You had no plans to stay single. You just wanted the people in your age group to mature a little bit more.

 

            “…You startin’ to pick a side?” He asked hesitantly.

 

            “What d'you mean?”

 

            “You know,” And if his skin had been lighter, you would have marked the blush. “Apples or bananas?”

 

            You swerved and breaked simultaneously before straightening out. You cursed under your breath and checked to make sure no cops had been around to see. Studiously ignored the enraged honking, you glanced at your brother, “What?”

 

            You’d just proven with your serene tone that actions _definitely_ spoke louder than words.

 

            He shifted uncomfortably and avoided eye contact, “Well, I saw you staring at Sam and I thought-”

 

            “You know Sam?” You asked sharply.

 

            A thousand emotions flitted over his face before he finally settled on curiosity, “Yeah, he’s in a few of my classes…How do _you_ know him?”

 

            “I don’t,” you said dismissively. He looked doubtful but he didn’t press it and you slowly relaxed.

 

            A few minutes passed before he noticed that you weren’t driving in the direction of home, “Where are we going?”

 

            “Father called.” He stiffened and turned to you with his mouth poised to ask. You swiftly cut him off. “ _Relax_. It’s not like he’s gonna figure it out without someone dropping a hint. He’s not here enough to pick up on anything and _I’m_ obviously not gonna say anything…”

 

            There was silence all the way to the store. You parked after circling the lot a few times. It seemed like everyone and their mothers were out shopping.

            You waited by the entrance for him to get a cart before moving further into the grocery store. He leaned heavily on the handlebar as he looked around, “So, what? We’re shopping for dinner or camouflage?”

 

            “Both. We can’t order out anymore because I don’t have any more cash on me. He’ll be checking the card.”

 

            “Well, then, I get to choose dinner if you aren’t gonna feed me.” You shrugged and he grinned triumphantly before rolling off. You didn’t know why he was so excited. Neither one of you could cook.

 

            Thirty minutes and your brother returned with a full cart. You added bread, milk, cereal, and some of your favorites and your shopping was done. You looked up from your evaluation of the receipt at the sound of crunching.

            “Jaylen!” You snapped as you yanked the bag of goldfish from his hands and put them back inside one of the plastic bags. “At least wait until we leave the store.”

 

            “Why?” He demanded petulantly, daring one of the security officers to approach him. “It’s on the receipt. We paid for it.”

 

            You shook your head as you led him to the car. He was too busy digging through the bags for his snack to pay attention to where he was going. He sat in the car, content with his newly retrieved cheese crackers, as you loaded up the back seat. He was preoccupied during the ride home and you were content with the silence. He finally remembered your existence after you pulled into the garage. He stared at you in confusion as you sashayed through the door that opened to a stubby hall. Straight back was one of the guest rooms but a huge arch to the left opened into the mini-ballroom that was the living room and open kitchen. Okay so that was a huge exaggeration but it was still more space than anyone really needed, “Hey, did you forget about the food?”

 

            “Nope.” You flopped down onto the couch only to reposition yourself to avoid mangling your sheet music. It had seemed so organized when you’d been working with it earlier but now you couldn’t even begin to understand where your mind had been.

 

            “Then what're you doing?”

 

            “Getting ready to practice. What does it look like?”

 

            “It looks like you’re making up an excuse not to help me with all this stuff.” Aww, he was getting angry. How cute.

 

            “Oh, no. I’m not making up an excuse. I’m just not going to help.”

 

            “What? Why not?!” He yelped. You didn’t answer immediately. “There’s a lot of food out there!”

 

            “I didn’t spend any more than 80 dollars,” you snorted as you checked the sound of the strings of your guitar.

 

            “Okay, but that’s still a lot more than just three or four bags!” He grew irritated when you continued to ignore him. In all honestly, if you looked up you would fall over laughing. He scowled and, unable to find anything to use against you that wouldn’t result in a real fight, sucked his teeth.

 

             You pretended to try and focus on your music. After a few moments you made your shoulders tense and furrowed your eyebrows, “Oh, stop whining and just do it! It’s bad enough that I can’t seem to play anything right; I don’t need you making it worse by distracting me!”

 

            He sniffed and in a very feminine display, flounced out of the room. Over the next hour, you could see him trudging back and forth between the garage and the kitchen in your peripheral as he put the food away with dramatic slowness. When he’d finally collapsed next to you with a groan, you reached over and patted his head, “Good boy. Next time you won’t stuff your face while I’m loading up the car, will you?”

 

            Realization washed over his features and he shoved you with all the strength he could muster. No doubt the heat had drained the last bit of energy he’d had after being at school since seven this morning and being a teenager didn’t help things at all. You moved all of two inches and half of that could’ve been because you were laughing. Jaylen whined as he let his body fall over sideways, “You’re so mean…”

 

            “I try.” You smiled. “But on the bright side, if you claim that you’re tired, you won’t have to call Father back. He told me to make sure you did.”

 

            “I love you,” he muttered into the pillow. There was a pause before he broke it with a big sigh and lifted his head. He threaded his fingers through the thick strands of his hair as he stared at nothing. “There’s still tomorrow, though.”

 

            “No, there isn’t,” He glanced back at you blankly. “We’re visiting Taylor tomorrow. You’re interning, remember?”

 

            “Seriously?!” You were only mildly surprised at how quickly energy seemed to return to him. He loved Taylor more than he loved anything else. You suspected it had more to do with her profession than her personality. Taylor, as playful as she was, was secretly very aggressive and most people found her hard to deal with once they figured it out. Very few ever did, though, since she was so good at hiding it. But, as her siblings, you and Jaylen knew it better than anyone else--even your parents. “Aw, that’s vicious!”

 

            You shook your head and turned back to your music. Jaylen lied there for a long moment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts before he got up and disappeared. You figured he went through the archway to the left of the kitchen into the main hall. From there he could either go upstairs, outside to the tiny little courtyard in the center of the house, or further down, past the small sitting room, into the computer room. You didn’t really keep tabs on his movements. Your thoughts were previously engaged.

            You’d managed to focus on your task long enough to make a little progress. You could play one of the songs if you paid close attention to what you were doing. You were sure that even with your current lack of ability that you could’ve gotten further if you hadn’t seen that Sam kid from your dreams. Seeing him had managed to unravel the tiny shred of composure you’d finally managed to acquire. To your surprise, though, it wasn’t that same nervous energy that you had before seeing him. You felt like you suddenly had direction and even though you didn’t know which way that was, you felt much calmer despite the rapid thoughts swirling around in your head.

 _One thought was incessant though_ , you mused as you finally started to clean up. There was no point in forcing yourself to play when it was obvious you weren’t going to get any more out of yourself. You’d have to look up the name ‘Ladiesman217’. As weird as that was, your subconscious wouldn’t settle on any other answer. Whenever you tried to dismiss the idea, your chest would tighten in disparity. So it was settled. You’d learned not to argue with your instincts; if they told you to act like a creepy stalker then you’d have to trust that it meant something in the greater scheme of things.

            You left the ground floor with your armful and after putting your things away in your room, wandered into the loft. It was positioned to the right, just off of the stairs. A moderately-sized T.V. was positioned diagonally to block one of only two corners in the space. There was a worn futon on the back wall across from it. Your father had tried to get rid of it on a number of occasions but you and Jaylen always confiscated it before he could really do away with it. It wasn’t terribly comfortable--no one sat on it, preferring to stretch out on the carpet with a large pillow--but it had been around since you were little and so had immeasurable sentimental value. On either side of the futon were tiny stands that were overflowing with videogames. There were four game systems situated around the television. Ironically enough, the most popular was the oldest: the Nitendo 64. Your sights weren’t on the little grey box at the moment, though.

            Jaylen was lured from whatever cave he’d been hiding in for the last two and a half hours by the sound of the Xbox starting up. He dragged a pillow from the couch, threw it down on the floor, and collapsed upon it in one smooth move as he asked, “What are you playing?”

 

            “Dunno yet…,” You murmered as you rummaged through the cases in your hands. He peered into your lap as you sifted through the games. You thought absently back to how so many siblings were uneasy with each other after finding out about their homosexuality and mentally laughed derisively. How many children were _really_ incestuous and driven to homosexuality due to their siblings?

 

            “Ooh, we should play Dead or Alive,” he crowed as you removed _Sonic and the Rings_ from your lap.

 

            “We?”

 

            He grinned, “You know it’s not as much fun without me.”

 

            “Well, obviously. I finished the storyline already. All that’s left to do is battle each other.”

 

            “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He pursed his lips up at you mockingly. “It’s alright. You’ll win eventually.”

 

            You sniggered in amusement, “And this is coming from the one who _loses_ every time we play.”

 

            You laughed at the sour look that crossed his face. He rolled over onto his side and propped his head on his palm, “Yeah, whatever. I bet you I’d win if we played that racing game.”

 

            “Only because you cheat and I’m not playing the Nintendo.”

 

            “No, I meant that city one,” He sat up and began searching with you.

 

            “ _Gotham City Racing_?” You asked.

 

            “Yeah! That one!”

 

            “You _could_ win if you didn’t insist on using the motorcycles.”

 

            “They’re the fastest vehicle available! We didn’t unlock the other cars yet.”

 

            “Yeah and I can still beat you in a Coupe because you don’t know how to turn without killing yourself.”

 

            “Then we just won’t pick a track that has all those turns!” He insisted.

 

            You rolled your eyes, “The whole point of a race is to test skill and if I make it easy, what skill am I testing?”

 

            “No, the whole point of a race is to win.” You waved your hand dismissively and decided on Fable 3. His eyes widened and he quickly scrambled to his feet. “No! Wait! I’m gonna make us some food first!”

 

            “What did you pick for dinner anyway?”

 

            “You mean you didn’t look at what you were buying?” He asked as he trotted down the stairs.

 

            “I didn’t care about what I was buying,” you told him, raising your voice a little so he could hear you.

 

            “Shit! I could’ve gotten a good bottle of whisky then!”

 

            “Over my dead body you could!”

 

            You could hear his laugh echo up from the kitchen and you shook your head. You decided to play with your Sims while he set fire to the kitchen. It was much more addicting than you’d first thought it would be. When your father had first given it to you, you’d been doubtful. His description being that you simply made people and controlled them hadn’t done it justice even if that was technically all you did.

            You kept an ear out for your brother downstairs but everything seemed to have gone fine. He returned an hour or so later with two bowls of spaghetti and four slices of bread with margarine spread over them. The noodles were soft at one end and hard at the other. They were welded together and it seemed like they were hotter than the sauce which was kind of watery but you didn’t complain. It wasn’t bad considering neither of you really knew how to cook. You were sure that you screwed up that one time when you tried to make breakfast so the score was even.

            The rest of the night was rather uneventful. You played Fable as the levelheaded lead character with your brother following as your trigger-happy sidekick. After continually failing at completing the same mission four times however, you both called it quits and found something else to play.

            At around eleven, your brother dropped out. You’d teased him lightly about being a sore loser but he’d simply smiled and forced himself under your arm. You recognized the move as something he used to do even before he was toddling. You waited patiently as he continued to shift until he’d settled so that his head rested on your upper thigh with his arms curled underneath it. He watched you play through Grand Theft Auto for a long while before his eyes grew heavy and he turned away. He buried his face into the junction where your thigh met your body and sighed. You ignored him for the most part even though you were mildly concerned about his silence.

 

            “…[Name]?” He asked after a moment. He sounded hesitant and you resisted the urge to smile.

 

            “Mm?”

 

            “You don’t think it’s…weird or anything? Me being…y’know?”

 

            “Of course it’s weird, 'weird' being, by definition, abnormal. But a lot of things are 'weird' and there is no fixed definition on what’s considered 'normal', either.”

 

            “Then what’s your definition of ‘normal’?”

 

            You didn’t reply automatically. You wanted to make sure you worded it right because if you didn’t, you’d have a hard time trying to convince him of what you really meant afterwards, “Normal for me means something that I am familiar with. It’s something I’m used to and therefore not threatened by even if it’s not exactly reasonable.”

 

            “Like your dreams.”

 

            You forced yourself not to tense, “That’s something different.” You most definitely felt threatened by some of your dreams and you didn’t think you’d ever get used to it.

 

            He laughed suddenly and you glance down at him curiously. You wished you hadn’t. The lack of attention got you killed by the S.W.A.T. team, “You’ve got to be the only person in the world who’s more afraid of dreams than his brother possibly raping him in his sleep.”

 

            You didn’t really know how to respond to that. You settled on wrinkling your nose, “That’d be too similar to jerking off, wouldn’t it? I mean we look almost exactly alike.” That’s what people said anyway.

 

            He doubled up laughing, “You see what I mean?!”

 

            “What? I know I’m sexy. It’s only natural for you to want a piece of me, too,” You grinned softly.

 

            “But you just said we look alike. That means I’m sexy, too.”

 

            “So why would you want to jump me when you could just play with yourself? I mean, you’d be one hell of a narcissist but whatever floats your boat.”

 

            “You _must_ be sleepy. That’s the only time you act like this.” He said, still laughing. You shrugged. You wouldn’t tell him that you were simply trying to make him feel better. You wanted him to understand that you didn’t mind that he daydreamed about penises while most others preferred something different without the conversation becoming depressing. You weren’t good with dealing with upset people. You weren’t sure he got the message but at least he was comfortable with you. You couldn’t see it but you heard the frown in his voice when he spoke again. “Are your dreams really so bad that you don’t want to go to sleep?”

 

            You weren’t sure how to answer that either so you didn’t. Eventually he nodded off and you continued playing in silence, praying sleep never consumed you.

        

            But of course it did.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Meh, this first bit is a little cliché but I will accept it as a fairly decent first chapter. It's not meant to be taken too seriously anyway so, hey. ;P
> 
> It might not have been very clear so just in case:
> 
> Taylor is the name of your older sister. She works at a company that will be revealed in the next chapter. She got your younger brother an internship since he is interested in the same sort of business just a different part. 
> 
> Your father frequently travels between home and his job in Arizona. He started the job five years ago and usually stays away for up to a week and a half at a time. It pays very nicely since it's so important, hence the huge house that he doesn't even spend time in. He's not a financially smart dude, but it's okay. 
> 
> You play the guitar for a local church's Sunday services. Your aspiration is to become a composer/conductor. Because honestly, your only dream _can't_ be to jump Jazz.  
>  And Prowl.  
> Preferably together but Michael Bay says no.  
> We'll see if the answer stays 'no'. I haven't fully decided if Jazz lives or not but it's possible.  
> Anyway, I think that's all for now! Thank you for reading and leaving kudos!


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